On the Run
by thedyingletective
Summary: After he packed his things up and left, all hell broke loose. His siblings were angered deeply, and were determined to find him and teach him a lesson. When he ran into the Winx Club, they took him in and cared for him. How can he show them that he is undeserving? -POSSIBLY DISCONTINUED-
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is multi chapter story number six, and part of my very first trilogy! I really, really hope you enjoy this.**

The teenaged boy hurriedly stuffed his necessities in his ruck sack. He heard his three sisters sleeping peacefully: the eldest in room at the front, to keep watch, and the youngest two in the room just behind the first. His was the room right at the back; and it was the scariest in the 'house' too.

He and his sisters lived in a cave. They were orphans, and this was the only place that the memories of their previous care wouldn't come back to them. Because he was the youngest child, and the only male at that, he wasn't gifted with life changing powers. His sisters were the people that got them out of trouble, again and again, and all he was told to do was 'run and don't look back'.

So tonight he was going to follow his sisters' advice. He was sick and tired of being the one that his sisters mocked; sick and tired of having to be saved every time something horrid happened to them. He was going to show them that he could be independent – and he was going to start a new life eventually, if he was lucky.

After putting on his black hoodie and tracksuit bottoms and tying the laces on his black trainers, he slung his bag onto his shoulders. He crept past the doors of every room. At the entrance to the cave, he paused and listened. He listened for any sign of his sisters waking up. Three whole minutes past and there was nothing; not a sound.

So he sighed, tried to toughen himself up, and took a step outside the cave. This was the start to his life of independence. He took a breath and walked. The night was pitch black dark. There was no moon, and only a couple of stars.

It was perfect.

The pathway of the cave split into two after trailing for two kilometres. Before it split, it was surrounded by bushes and trees. The raven haired boy remembered what happened five years ago, when the mocking of his sisters _really _started. One of the trees looked like some sort of monster, and he remembered that he fashioned an axe out of an old piece of wood. He chopped down the tree and scarpered. When his sisters found him, hiding behind a hedge, they didn't scold him for running away like he thought they would. Oh, no. Instead they jeered at him, and dragged him back to the cave.

Ever since that day, the memories stuck deep in his mind, like someone and used honey to stick them in. He was seventeen now, and still he remembered how scared he was of that particular tree. It made him laugh now, but when he was thirteen, or maybe it was fourteen, he was very ashamed.

He reached the split in the pathway. He stood with his hands in his pockets, brooding on which path to take. The left path was the safest – and the least creepy. It went through the forest. The forest where he and his three sisters used to play together when they were younger; before his sisters' powers developed.

They used to tell him tales about how they ran around in the forest and played tag, how they used to camp out alone at the bottom of the forest, how all their lives were much better than they were now. He sighed, longing for those memories to become a reality again. He wanted to right the relationship between himself and his sisters.

But he couldn't. They had come too far in their mocking ways to back out now. He sighed and shook his head to rid himself of the memories; they wouldn't do him good now that he planning on running away from his only biological family.

He shifted his gaze to the path on the right. The path that led to the graveyard. The graveyard where his mother was buried. His mother died when he was only five, and every year, he was taken there to see the only woman who loved him, according to his middle sister. When he was a little older, at the age of ten, he used to make trips there when he couldn't take any more from his sisters. He used to talk to his mother before breaking down, and sometime he swore he could hear her say, 'hold it out. Don't let your three older siblings bring you down.'

Shaking his head once again, he started to pay attention to the three words swimming around in his mind: forest or graves. Forest or graves? Forest? Or graves? In the end, the graves won his mental battle.

The path on the right was a shortcut, which meant that he'd be further away from his sisters faster. He would be able to pay a quick visit to his mother and tell her what he was doing. The thought of speaking to his mother for the final time (goodness knows when he'd be able to see her again.) spurred him on. He leaped into a run and in a few short minutes he was met with the old and battered gate of the graveyard. His feet ached and protested but he paid them no concern.

He pulled his hood back up again, after it bounced off while he was running. He leant over and unlocked the gate, and pushed it open. He weaved his way through the graves at the front. His mother was buried right in the middle of the yard; his sisters always had to be the centre of attention.

He found the grave where his mother lay. He stood there for a second, and then he dropped to his knees, taking off his ruck sack and putting to one side. He didn't remember her enough to cry over her. However, from what his sisters told him, he felt his memory coming back bit by bit.

"Hi Mum," he whispered. He was only met with silence. "I've come to tell you about my plan. I'm leaving them." He didn't say his sisters' names: he knew his mother would know who he was taking about.

"They've been doing my head in, never letting me be by myself, and they were always, _always_ making fun of me. I hated it so much. So I packed my stuff up and scarpered." After a pause, he sighed.

"I need to go now, Mum. Remember, I love you." He stood back up again and picked up his bag.

He walked away, and after walking at least five feet, he looked back at his mother and sighed. He was almost in tears. He bit his tongue; he couldn't afford to break down now. Before he could though, he ran.

He ran all the way out of the graveyard, and out onto the streets. He was grateful that it had just gone past midnight: the streets were empty. He slowed down, ducking his head. He slipped into a narrow alleyway and walked right to the back. It was deserted, desolate, and he couldn't help but break into a relieved smile.

He set up his sleeping bag and blanket, and sat down. He took off his trainers, and sighed after the pain from walking for so long subsided a little. He leant his back against the wall and closed his eyes, hoping to get to get to sleep. Except, that was not to be.

There was a loud bang, followed by millions of screams. He opened his eyes and was met with something that had not registered on his planning radar all this time.


	2. An Addition to the 'Family'

Musa longed for some action.

It was a week into the summer break and she was _bored_. Being a teacher was no fun if you didn't have any lessons to teach. None of her students had opted to come back for the summer and do extra courses for their music classes.

So she had to stay at her home, which was not far from Alfea itself, doing precisely nothing. She had agreed to take care of Roxy while she was doing her three years' worth of Alfea education. The animal fairy had, however, decided to stay on for extra lessons. She wouldn't be home until early this evening.

Roxy had decided not to be a boarding student. She did not like being holed up in one place for too long. And because Musa and Riven's apartment was the closest from Alfea, Roxy was offered a chance to stay there for the duration of her education.

Riven was at Red Fountain, working on some lesson planning that he and Sky had agreed on finishing for Saladin, so she couldn't even do anything fun with him. And she meant fun in the amusing sense, by the way.

Musa flopped down on the sofa in front of the TV and put her feet up. She reached for the remote and flicked the 'on' switch. It was tuned onto some fashion programme. Musa stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes. A fashion programme? That was worse than not watching anything at all. Musa heaved a heavy and frustrated sigh. Even though there was music, her most favourite thing in the whole world, playing in the background, she was very dissatisfied.

She was thirsty, she decided. With a huge breath of air, she heaved herself up and pattered, in her pyjamas and blue bunny slippers, into the kitchen. She found her phone lying on the counter next to the bread bin. She was determined not to touch it unless someone was calling her; the doctor had said to her that using her phone for too long was what was causing her unbearable migraines.

She picked up her mug off the shelf. As she made herself a cup of coffee, she couldn't help feeling that the bad guys had had enough of making a mess of Magix. Since Acheron was defeated, nothing beyond the ordinary had happened. It was just the same old day, over and over again: go to Alfea, teach seven lessons, come home, make dinner for Roxy, Riven and herself (sometimes not even that, when it was Riven's turn to cook), help Roxy with the homework her potions teacher set every evening, watch a movie with her two housemates, and finally get into bed.

Now that it was the summer break, she would have precisely _nothing _to do for a whole month and a half. Unless Roxy's Animal Science teacher, Ms Greeves, set her some complicated assignment to be completed for the next time that they met (which was tomorrow, if Musa remembered correctly). Which, even though it was a rare possibility, would be plausible. Greeves did tend to set homework at the weirdest of times.

Taking her mug of coffee and her phone back to the living room, she set her phone and mug on the coffee table in front of her. She sat back on the sofa and adjusted herself to be comfortable. She reached for her coffee and took a sip. Relishing in the warm, creamy taste it brought to her mouth, she broke out into a content smile.

It was just as well that Musa put her mug down before doing her smiling; what happened in the next millisecond would have caused her to spill it all down herself and get burned. Her phone rang. The ringing was so unexpected in her almost silent house that she jumped.

When the automated speaker (installed by Tecna on their last meet up) spoke: _Headmistress Faragonda is calling from Alfea College for Fairies_, she leapt up and punched her fist into the air with a silent 'yes!'. She thought, _finally, some action! _The busy headmistress wouldn't have phoned to make sure she was alright. And it meant that Something Was Up. Calming herself down hurriedly, she sat back down. Pressing the 'Answer Call' button, she waited until her headmistress' face became visible.

Faragonda was frowning. Hard. Something terrible must have happened. "Miss Faragonda?" she asked. "What's the matter?"

The older woman's frown deepened until her greying eyebrows had knotted together. "We have terrible news, dear," she said with a sigh. She pushed her glasses up and tried extremely hard to calm herself down. She failed miserably.

"What? What's happening?" Musa asked. She was getting horribly panicked now. What could possibly have happened? "Ms Faragonda, what is going on?" She kept asking questions rapidly at her teacher turned employer, until the other woman had to calm her down.

"Musa, please, don't worry yourself so." Musa frowned, and opened her mouth to speak. She closed it again after her old headmistress began speaking. "Baltor is back," Faragonda said. Her voice was monotonous; she was trying terribly hard to keep calm.

Musa took a few moments to let the words sink in. She was aghast. "No," she said, and shook her head. "No, that cannot be. Bloom destroyed him. She destroyed his soul." Bloom _did _destroy the old wizard, didn't she? Or did her random moments of kindness take her over and caused her to let the wizard live?

"Supposedly, yes." Faragonda turned very pale suddenly. "But… there's something about the way the girl reacted when I told her what was going on that has been making me very suspicious." The older fairy shook her head sadly.

Musa cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asked, leaning forward a little. "Do you mean to tell me that Bloom _didn't _destroy Baltor?" Her words came out a little rougher than she intended, but Miss Faragonda seemed unfazed.

"I don't know, Musa," she sighed. "All I'm asking is that you girls, the Winx Club, come back together and defeat him. For good, this time." Faragonda sounded firm, like she was not pleased with how hard the girls had worked the last time this happened. It made Musa rather angry.

"We didn't know he was capable of resurrecting himself!" she declared. "We thought when Bloom destroyed him, he _was _gone for good!" Another thought struck her. "And you need not tell us to get together again. The Winx Club has been, is, and always will be together."

"I know, Musa." Miss Faragonda's position slouched suddenly, and Musa immediately felt terrible for saying what she had in such a way.

"I-I'm sorry, Miss Faragonda. I-I just wasn't think-" Miss Faragonda waved off her apology and sat up straight.

"It's fine. You were angered. But we do not have time for this. I have asked the rest of the girls to meet you outside Alfea. Be there in half an hour, please." Faragonda suddenly groaned and clasped the sides of her head with both hands.

"Are you OK? What's wrong?" Musa asked hurriedly.

Calming down instantly, Miss Faragonda righted her posture and clasped her hands together on the table. "I'm fine, dear. The boys will meet you at Alfea. Saladin has informed them of the matter," she said, instantly changing the subject. Musa found that to be a little suspicious.

Another thing she found off key was that Miss Faragonda referred to the Specialists as 'the boys'. It felt strange talking about Riven and the others as 'boys'. They had grown up so much since junior year; and that was a couple of years ago now.

"OK. I'll see you later, Miss F," Musa nodded.

"Goodbye, Musa, dear." The connection cut off and Musa was once again alone with her thoughts.

She was going to leave Roxy a note to tell her where she was if she didn't get back but then she realized that Roxy would know what was going on since she was studying at Alfea at this moment in time. So, deciding against the note idea, and with a deep breath, she stood. She ran upstairs, threw on a t-shirt that said 'music to my ears', her stone jeans and her golden ballet pumps. She closed her eyes and muttered a transportation spell.

xxx

Getting to Alfea, Musa saw Flora sitting on a bench. Her face broke out into a beaming smile as she leapt into a run, crying out: "Flora!"

Flora looked up from her hands on her lap and stood. Her smile matched Musa's as she held out her arms. Musa boosted her speed and she and Flora hugged each other hard. They hadn't seen each other in a week and it counted as forever in each of their books; they _were _best friends after all.

"Hi, Musa!" Flora greeted. "I haven't seen you in ages!" she said as they parted and she held onto Musa's hands with her own.

Musa smiled, and then shrugged. "I guess some things aren't meant to be." They sat back on the bench again, still facing each other. Musa let go of Flora's hands to fish in her pocket for something. She handed a folded piece of paper to her friend. She was trying as best she could to avoid the talk of the problem at hand; aka the _real _reason they were sitting face to face with each other right now.

Flora took it, and looked curiously up at her.

Musa shrugged. "Something from Roxy. She's staying at our place, remember?" Flora nodded as she opened up the paper.

"She wants some help with some Flower Potions homework," Flora explained. Musa raised an eyebrow. "She thought she could do it but she thought wrong."

Musa folded her arms across her chest and was going to reply with something along the lines of "She never told me about any Flower Potions homework," when someone else's voice stole her attention.

"Hi, you guys!" came a shrill voice. Both Musa and Flora looked towards the gate of Alfea to see Stella, dressed in her best clothes as usual, running towards them.

Musa waved at her and when Stella caught them up, the first thing she said was, "Do you think I look alright?" Musa fought the urge to roll her eyes at her friend. She hadn't changed at all. She still was worrying about her appearance when she was in an orange knee length dress and yellow sandals.

"You look fine, Stel," she said. "Jeez, it's not like it's prom night. We're only fighting an enemy – again," she pointed out flatly.

Stella's face flushed, but Flora had gotten serious. "Guys," she said. Stella and Musa looked her way. "What do you think caused Baltor to come back?" she asked.

"Duh, what do you think?" Stella asked rhetorically, squeezing herself into the minute space between Musa and Flora. "To wreak havoc and take over the world! What else?"

This time Musa did roll her eyes. "Stella, that's not what Flora meant!" she said irritably. "She meant _how come he's alive again_?" She expected sarcasm from her fashion loving friend, or even a look of innocence. But what she got instead was a shriek of frustration.

"I know that!" Stella screeched. "I was trying not to think about why he's alive again!" She growled and stood up again.

Bloom, Layla and Tecna showed up then, and neither of them were in the mood for joking around. Their faces were neutral; Layla and Tecna were frowning terribly. Bloom's face showed… Musa couldn't place it exactly, but it looked like… guilt? Fear? She didn't know. The redheaded fairy hung back, and was considerably slower than the other two, and she was squirming.

Musa and Flora stood up and, along with Stella, started walking towards the other half of their group.

"Hi, guys!" Musa said cheerfully, trying hard to break the tension that had unfolded.

Tecna sighed. "Guys, I'm sorry, but I'm not in the mood for joking around today. What Faragonda said has really unnerved me," she said, running her hand along the length of her pink hair. She had grown it, Musa realized. It was now lying just under her breast line.

"Yeah, no, we get it, Tec. I don't think any of us are," Musa replied forlornly.

Suddenly, a cackle was heard. It rippled through the grounds of Alfea and screams and yells followed soon after. Fairies everywhere started running: freshmen, sophomores, juniors. Musa growled as the sky darkened to a navy blue colour. She saw Flora shiver.

"Oh no. I think… I think the battle is due to start!" said the Flower Fairy. Bloom nodded.

"I think you're right Flo," she said. "Everyone ready?" Bloom positioned herself, ready to transform.

"Ready!" the other girls replied. They followed Bloom's movements and readied themselves to transform.

"Magic Winx! Bloomix!"

Almost instantly, Musa found herself floating to the ground. She was in her Bloomix outfit with a pair of shimmering wings on her back. She smiled; proud of herself for getting this far. Her smile was taken over by a frown when their dreaded enemy showed up.

"Well, hello, my friends," he cackled. The Winx Club turned to face the Dragon Fire wizard; determination and anger burning in their eyes. They flew up to face him, all six standing in a line.

Stella was the first to speak. "Baltor, you need to be taught a lesson." At first, Musa thought that Stella meant the fact that he was alive again. However, when Stella went on to say, "We. Are. Not. Your. Friends," that all changed. She smiled. Trust Stella to go on for a direct confrontation.

The wizard smiled. There was nothing soft or caring or friendly about it. "What?" he said, feigning innocence and crossing his arms. "I remember we used to get on quite well."

He glanced to his left, and Musa could have sworn he winked at someone slightly. At the far end of the line was Bloom. Miss Faragonda's claims about being suspicious were becoming more and more valid, Musa thought.

"Wait, Baltor," Layla said. She squinted at him. "Where're your acquaintances, hmm? Y'know, like Icy and Darcy and Stormy?"

Baltor frowned. A ball of fire materialized in his hand. "You dare say that my abilities aren't enough to go solo?" The blue orb grew larger. "You want to underestimate them?" Layla's image didn't falter. In fact it did anything but.

"No," she said simply, matching his orb with one of her Morphix ones. "I'm just saying that six on one isn't fair. And one wizard isn't enough for my liking."

Stella leant over to whisper in Musa's ear, "What's she doing? Does she want to make it harder?" Musa shook her head, indicating she didn't know.

"I can be even more powerful than the Trix put together!" Baltor said. With that, he fired. The attack headed for Layla at first but then swerved at the last second and turned towards Musa, Tecna and Stella.

Tecna held out her hands and with a cry of, "Bio-Rhythmic Blast!" a blue, green and yellow beam of energy left her fingertips. It raced at lighting speed towards Baltor. The wizard looked calm. He smirked, and then just totally disappeared.

"Over here, fairies." They all turned around and there he was: hovering, smirking behind them.

There were at least about twenty of him. Twenty Baltors surrounding the Winx Club. "Great," Musa muttered. She fired a vortex-like purple sonic beam at one of them, which countered her attack with a ball of orange fire.

All of her friends had the same idea. Each fairy was battling with a Baltor. Layla had taken it upon herself to tackle three of them. Suddenly, she looked up and cried, "Look!"

Musa looked up, as did the rest of them. Heading towards them were a horde of Cloud Tower witches. As they neared the girls, Musa saw that they had Baltor's Mark on their arms. Looking even closer, she saw that their eyes were glazed over. "They're brainwashed!" she realized.

"Attack!" one of them shouted in a long, droned out voice. With her command though, each one of the witches held out their arms and different types of attacks came towards them. Musa put up a shield, a blue and red circular shield, to defend herself from a deep red attack heading her way.

The attack was stronger than she thought. Even with her pouring most of her magic into the shield, she could feel herself being forced backwards. She held out an arm. Red and purple music notes headed towards the witch soon after. The witch's defence spell was useless. Musa's attack hit her hard, right in the chest. The black haired witch turned and flew the other way. Musa growled. She looked at the others. They were now fighting the one Baltor and his horde of many witches.

She called out that she was going to go after the witch. Layla gave her a thumbs up, and then she was off. She boosted her speed. The witch turned and her face twisted into a smirk. She didn't fire a spell; just flew a lot faster.

Soon, they had flown right into the streets of Magix. People were staring at the fairy chasing the witch. Some of them were frightened in case the witch attacked them. People started running. Others started to stop and watch. Some cheered Musa on; others the witch. They flew past endless houses, the witch getting faster and faster every minute.

Suddenly, Musa had enough. Enough of flying around and getting nowhere. A purple attack materialized in her hand and she beat her wings as fast as they would let her. She held onto her attack – she had to get near enough after trailing so far behind. "Hey, witch!" she yelled. The witch turned her way, never slowing down, saw the attack and suddenly her eyes returned to their normal sky blue. Her actions seeped in and horror was momentarily evident on her face. It vanished, though, and the witch was supposedly pleased with how far they had come.

Musa let the attack go and the witch's eyes widened in terror. The orb hit her in the face but the witch was unfazed. The fear disappeared as soon as it had come and a smirk replaced the frown. She swerved sideways and Musa's second attack flew past her. She snapped her fingers as the attack hit a nearby building, and disappeared with a taunt of: "See if you can do better next time." Musa growled. She had come so close; so close to victory, but the witch had slipped out of her clutches at the last second.

She flew to the ground in defeat and frustration. The corner of her eye fell on something (no, some_one_) hiding in the alleyway a few feet in front of her. When she turned to look, that thing (person?) was gone. _But it couldn't have gone far_, her mind's voice told her. The voice was right, she decided, it couldn't have gone far, unless there was an opening at the back on the alleyway. _There isn't_, the voice protested.

With a sigh, she started walking to the alleyway. When she got there, she heard rustling. She paused at the beginning, and gasped. Right there, at the back of the alleyway, was a boy packing things hurriedly into a ruck sack. The boy was not older than eighteen, she made out. He had a black hoodie on, accompanied by black joggers and trainers. Musa realized that she felt deeply for this boy; a boy she didn't even know.

He was obviously a runaway. You would have to be, if you were in an alleyway, with all your things stuffed into a bag. She suddenly felt curious. Why was he running away? Was his family life so bad that he had to escape? She could relate to his feelings: she had done the exact same thing. She had found life with her domineering, music hating, cold father to be too hard. So one night, she packed up most things she had and got the bus to some unknown place.

She looked at the boy, and found that she really, really wanted to help him. With a deep breath, she walked up to him, standing a few inches off. He was aware of her presence; he paused his packing for a second, but went straight back to it after. She knelt beside him, and softly said, "Hello. I'm Musa." When he didn't reply, she went on to say, "Who are you?"

The boy finished his packing and zipped up his bag. "Riley," he said simply. Musa believed him.

She paused again, and stood up simultaneously with him. "Are you going anywhere? I can help you get there," she said.

He paused, and looked her in the eye for the first time since they'd met. "My folks were getting too much to bear," he said, sighing. "This is the only thing I could think of to get away."

She smiled. "Hey, I know how it feels. I did the same thing," she said as they began walking. "I left my old man when he banned music from our house over on Melody." Riley looked at her strangely. She sighed and looked away. "Long story. Don't ask." She shrugged.

"OK," he said. He stopped suddenly and asked, "Where're we going?"

"Wherever you need to go," Musa explained.

"I don't _need _to go anywhere. I just don't want to go back home," Riley explained as they began walking once again.

"You can go back and stay at my place?" Musa offered.

_What have I just done? _she wondered. _Riven was reluctant enough to take Roxy in_ _– let alone some runaway stranger._

_But he needs help – and a loving family. Riven and I can give them both to him, and make him happy again. I want to do this, it seems a good deed_

And so it was that Musa found herself leading Riley back to Alfea, to find the other witches and Baltor gone, and the Winx Club talking to Headmistress Faragonda outside.


	3. Searching for the Fourth Trix

**A/N: Sorry for not updating in ages. I was concentrating on a 100-chaptered challenge fic, but I'm back now. Temporarily. I wanted to give you this chapter before focusing on the remaining 84 chapters of my other fic. Enjoy and review.**

Stormy was livid. Absolutely livid. There weren't any words that could describe her anger at this moment.

In fact, she was so angry that her sisters had to take cover while her storm raged wild. The lightning cackled, the thunder rolled and the rain pelted, both inside their home and out.

The reason for her anger? Well. All three sisters were angry, but Stormy was most definitely the angriest of them.

Their brother, Stephen, had left home. They didn't know where he had gone, or for what reason. And that was probably the reason they were so mad at him.

The siblings _always _told each other where they were going. After their mother had died of an incurable illness, the concern and the need to protect each other grew a hell of a lot. They covered up their fear for each other with their tough fronts and mass destruction, but deep inside they were anxious for each other's safety. Their apprehension was masked by their anger while the anger was not masked at all.

Out of the three witches, Stormy was most affected by her mother's death. She was only eight at the time and, along with Stephen, needed her mother most. She needed help as her powers surfaced, when Darcy or Icy were busy. There was no point in asking Stephen; he wouldn't know anything since he was three years younger than she was.

When her mother died, it dawned upon her that they were now alone. Icy took it upon herself to be their second mother. Stormy could see that Icy was affected: she would snap at the three of them for no valid reason. She always argued back, but it was Darcy who calmed them down and reassured Stephen that everything was OK.

Their lives had changed. Drastically. Despair had caused the witches to change their names from happy, sappy ones (Hope, Faith, Serenity) to ones that matched their powers. They were taken into some care system a few weeks after the death, which didn't really work out. They were separated and things turned upside down. It seemed neither could live without the others.

So they escaped after living for three years in places they couldn't cope. They found a cave away from every memory they had. Then, after five more years, the witches enrolled at Cloud Tower. Stephen didn't think he'd fit in at Red Fountain after living with three witches, so he went to a school on a smaller planet no-one recognised as much. It had a good education system, though.

But now he had left them. After twelve years of looking after each other, he had decided to throw away everything that had been built between them.

Granted, they teased him somewhat, but that was just for a laugh. They didn't mean any harm.

"Stormy?!" she heard a voice yell suddenly. She rolled her eyes. She was supposed to be searching the forest for Stephen but so far she had come no closer to finding him. They had been searching all day. It was nearly the evening now.

Icy was searching past the forest. "Is that you?!" Icy called again.

Stormy groaned and lifted herself into the air. "Icy?!" she called.

They met at the middle of the forest. "Any sign of the idiot?" Icy asked her.

Stormy shook her head. "The bitch is going to pay for this. I'm going to make him pay."

Icy sniggered. "Sister, stay calm. If we find him, we're all going to make him pay."

Suddenly a voice wormed itself into their minds: _I couldn't find the brat. It's really annoying me now. _

They knew instantly that it was Darcy. The two sisters looked at each other and Icy nodded. Stormy whispered, "We couldn't find him either. Meet us in the forest. We'll re work our plan from there," and then sent it on the winds to where Darcy was.

Then she turned to Icy. "Is there a way we can work out _why _he left?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Icy shrugged. "I don't know." Stormy leant against a tree and held out a hand. A cloud of dust materialised above her open palm and twirled like a cyclone. The cloud grew bigger as Stormy's thoughts for what to do with their brother once he was found became more and more brutal.

"Guys?" asked a voice. They both looked to the mouth of the forest to find Darcy walking towards them.

Stormy straightened herself up, the cloud of soot dissipating. "Are you sure you looked everywhere?" Icy asked her sister.

Darcy nodded. "Twice. I looked _twice_. I was sure I saw him once but when I came back round the second time, whatever it was that was there was gone."

Stormy shook her head. "You shouldn't have waited until you came back around. You should have followed what it was when you saw it."

Darcy frowned. "That's exactly what I did!" she exclaimed, her tone of voice rising only slightly.

"Was he there?" Stormy's anger was rising steadily.

"No, but-"

"Well then! It wasn't him, then, was it?!" Stormy screeched.

"How was I to know?" Darcy said, her voice keeping its cool.

"Guys, this isn't going to help us find him," Icy interjected, interrupting the near-argument between the two younger siblings.

Darcy blew out a puff of breath though her mouth. "I guess not."

There was a pause. Finally, after thinking the words over in her head, Stormy broke the silence. "Look," she sighed. "This may well be the most un witch-like thing that I've ever said, but... I'm worried about Stevie." None of them had used the pet name for Stephen in years. "I want to know what made him run off. Where he's gone."

Darcy sighed. "Me too, Stormy," she said slowly. "Me too."

They both looked at Icy, wondering if she would confess to being worried about their brother. Icy held their gazes for what felt like an age, but she faltered when only seconds had passed. "Fine, fine. I'm worried about him." She then added, "But that doesn't mean I'm going to let him off when he's found. He owes us an explanation." The oldest sibling looked both her younger sisters in the eye. "And I'm going to get it in any way I can."

All three siblings agreed that they would see no limits when searching for their brother. After all, when did the Trix ever have limits?


End file.
